Falling Star
by Tribble Master
Summary: Set in The End, during the five years. Castiel's transformation and how Dean learns to stop carring. Spoiler for the episode. Slash.
1. Fallen Star

**Beta: **enviousxbeauty

**Challenge Issued by: ParaCaerOuVoar**

**Things I did not make up: Palin (urk) being president (gag) and Bobby dying (sobs) and Sam saying yes (_NO_!). **  
**Enjoy. **

**Falling Star  
Chapter One**

The virus hit Minnesota. Crote's blossomed all over town.

President Palin was confident that it could be contained.

The virus hit South Dakota, Vermont. Crote's ate away at morale.

President Palin put on a brave face for the nation. "We can beat this!" She said to the swarming masses.

The virus took New York, New Jersey (not a complete loss), and kept going.

President Palin was baffled as the nation grew smaller and smaller, more war torn and sick of death with every day. She found though, that is was surprisingly more fun to shoot Crotes than moose. And Vice President Cheney whole-heartedly agreed shooting people in the face was good… for the country.

Dean Winchester sat on the hood of the Impala, his head resting in his hands. He looked up at the cold dark sky and shuddered. "Fuck." He said quietly.

He glared down at his cell phone next to him. But hell, he couldn't even keep track of his brother. It'd been a month and he still couldn't believe it.

Texas, Texas, fuck it all. Sam had said _yes. _Bastard had done it, screwed them all. Dean still remembered that night, when they'd ran in to Austin after Sam's frantic call for help. Blood was everywhere in that town by the time they got there. And all of it was dripping from Sam's fingers as he had smiled at Dean. There was something still human in those eyes, he tried to tell himself, those lifeless brown eyes that were mocking him as he screamed. If it wasn't for Castiel dragging him out of the town, he would have stayed there and died.

Dean remembered every moment of that day. When Castiel had shook him awake to reality. "This is real Dean!" he had shouted, "You can't stay there!"

"But I have to save Sam!" he had argued uselessly.

Castiel gripped his shoulder tight, matching his handprint to the scar on his skin. "It's too late Dean. Listen to me!"

Dean had been shaking with rage. "Get away from me! I have to go back!"

Castiel's blue eyes were etched in sorrow. "No."

The next morning, two states over, he was still furious Castiel had made him leave. "Why did you save me, you selfish bastard? Why even bother at all?" Dean had growled standing toe to toe with him.

"Because someone has to care about your sorry ass." Castiel had fumed. "Might as well be me."

It'd been a month since then, since Texas. Since Castiel and Dean had spent three days furious with each other, exchanging glares. And it'd been three weeks since he'd finally asked Castiel what he'd meant by that. Castiel had shown him, explicitly.

Dean had been so sure that things were finally going to get better now. Castiel was with him, and he had a plan. Well, sort of. Jumping off the car, he kicked at the dirt and looked around. Even when the colt seemed elusive, he was sure he could find it quickly.

But now Bobby wanted him to be the leader. Bobby promised him, he'd get everyone together he just needed Dean to be the voice. Dean took a deep breath and looked up at the motionless heavens.

The stars above remained cold and aloof.

The sun began to rise and he was frozen inside. There hadn't been any angels screwing with him for a month (with one glaring exception) and it a relief. He looked over at his cell phone, still sitting on the car. He picked it up, but he stopped when he heard fluttering.

Castiel appeared next to him, trembling slightly. "Dean."

"What?" He asked turning to look at Castiel. His face softened as he noticed the trace of exhaustion on Castiel. "Are you out of breath?"

"No." Castiel said defensively, he wasn't going to admit how shaky his wings felt as he'd flown. "I came to get you to come back to Camp. Bobby's getting everyone together, and you're needed to rally the troops."

"Why?" Dean looked at the red sun that was wearily taking its place in the sky. "There's no point."

Castiel touched his shoulder. "I want you to come back." He added softly, "Please."

Dean sighed and kissed Castiel's cheek. He could try again later. "Fine."

Castiel smiled slightly. "Good. I'm going to go get Chuck."

Dean moved to go to the car. "Alright. I'll see you later."

Castiel took three steps away, letting his wings unfold unseen to human eyes. The bony frame was ragged, the black wings that still clung to it where dull not nearly as dark as they used to be. He willed himself to take flight, but nothing happened.

Dean was starting the Impala's engine when he noticed that Castiel was still standing there staring at his hands mumbling. He rolled down the window and called, "Cas? Do you need a ride?"

Castiel shook his head. "I'm fine." He scrunched his eyebrows and concentrated, within moments he disappeared.

Dean grumbled and turned on his music. It would be a long drive to the new camp.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Castiel fell onto the asphalt scrapping his knees, panting for breath as he landed in front of the ramshackle house. Another feather fell, nearly grey, landed on the ground. He glared at it.

He stood up and took a deep breath, before he stepped forward.

"Supposed to land _in _the house." He grumbled.

Castiel knocked on the door; he wasn't surprised to hear no one scrambling to get the door. He walked in and found Chuck upstairs packing hurriedly. "I didn't hear you." Chuck said absently. "You were supposed to be here 20 minutes ago."

Chuck looked up at Castiel who was standing awkwardly in the door way. "Is something wrong?"

Castiel shook his head. "I'm taking you to Camp Chitaqua."

Chuck frowned. "Really? I thought I saw something was happening in South Dakota… I'm not usually off like this."

"Aren't your visions clear?"

Chuck rubbed his temple. "They've been sketchy ever since, well you know, _Texas__._"

"Lucifer." Castiel had to agree. That's when the first feather fell.

Chuck sealed his suitcase. "Well." He looked around his house. "Let's go."

Castiel bit his lip as he unfolded his feathery wings. He stepped over to Chuck and touched his temple. Using all his strength, he carried Chuck two states over to the camp ground. Chuck landed on two feet, but Castiel nearly fell over. His wings were trembling.

Chuck set down his suitcase. "Sure you're fine?"

"Perfect." Castiel snapped.

They walked into the main cabin where Bobby was rolling around yelling at the other hunters. "What took you so damn long?" He grumbled. "Everyone's just about here."

Castiel looked around the hall to see all the hunters that were ambling around restless. "Wind turbulence." Castiel said dryly. "Anyway, we're now. What does it matter?"

Bobby raised one eyebrow. He turned to look at Chuck who was still trying to regain balance after flying. "Chuck, your cabin is down the main path and to the right. It's got a green door. If you need any help-"

"I got it." Chuck picked up his suitcase. "Thanks. Be back in a minute."

"Is Dean here?" Castiel asked, wanting to see Dean before the meeting.

"No. That boy's acting all kinds of strange." Bobby started to wheel himself away. "Come talk to me if you need anything else. I got organizing to do."

Castiel watched him go and stood in the middle of the busy hall as everyone moved around him. He looked at all the movement and sighed, feeling tired down to his bones. He wanted someone to lean against. No, he thought, not someone, he wanted Dean. He walked out of the room to look around.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Castiel was inspecting one of the broken down cabins listlessly. It was just about as beaten as he felt. Furniture odds and ends where stacked in the main room. Castiel placed his hands under the desk, trying to lift it so he could carry it outside. Surely someone would want this spare piece, even it had been tossed aside. To his dismay, it hardly budged at all when he tried to move it.

He clenched his fist, splintering the wood frame slightly, but it still didn't budge. Behind him, the door creaked open.

"Need help?"

Castiel turned around and relaxed. "Dean. When did you get here?"

Dean walked next to him and placed his hands on the corner of the desk. "Only a couple of minutes ago. Kinda snuck in."

"Everyone's looking for you." Castiel said as he moved to the opposite end of the desk. "Bobby's expecting you to speak soon."

"I know. I wanted to see you first." Dean nodded. "Lift."

With a grunt, they lifted it outside and set it on the porch. It slammed down and Dean sighed. "What else is in there in this cabin anyway?"

They headed in together. "Not much." Castiel said pointing at all the odds and ends dotting the space. "I mean, we've got a bunch of junk that's got to go, but there's one bed in the room over and bathroom. That's about all we need though, right?"

"We?" Dean said looking at him as he leaned against the wall.

"Well, you are with me aren't you?" Castiel stood closer to him subconsciously.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but a knock on the door interrupted him. "The meetings about to begin, Singer said he saw that Dean's Impala was parked here. Have either of you seen him yet?"

Dean looked at the tall tan brunette in the doorway. "We'll be right there. What's your name?"

"Risa." She nodded. "Singer's getting pissed and the other hunters are antsy so hurry up."

Dean nodded. "You go on ahead. We'll catch up."

She left quickly to spread the news. Dean gestured to Castiel and threw his arm around his shoulder. "We'll talk later." He smiled as they walked out.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The meeting hall was busy; overcrowded with hunters and just survivors of the traumatic, turbulent world. Castiel stood by the stage, at alert watching everyone's reactions as Bobby rolled onto the platform. There was scattered applause for the widely respected man. "Y'all know the situation." Bobby announced. "Y'all know we ain't got a chance in hell, but we got a chance and that's what counts. I can't lead you, not like this."

He gestured to his wheelchair with a weak smile. "But I know someone who can. Y'all may have heard of him, he's the one the best. Raised him like a son. Ladies and Gents, Dean Winchester."

Dean walked onto stage with some applause, happy to see that there were some people who knew his name. "Welcome to Camp Chitaqua. Life here won't be easy, but no one ever said it would be." He smiled gently. "What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger. And we are the best, strongest, and we will fight for the right to survive."

Several audience members began to cheer. Some yelled out, "Yeah, but how?"

Dean looked into the audience with cold eyes. "Why, I'm going to kill the Devil."

The audience fell into a respectful silence. Dean looked at them. "Everyone here will play their part and when the time comes, we will win. Make no mistake, this place is Crote free and a free home to everyone willing to fight."

"Go to your cabins and rest." Dean said. "Tomorrow, there will be a small team going to get research from Singer's house as we set up a routine. It's gonna be a busy day, so let's get some sleep."

Everyone clapped as Dean stepped off stage, the whole room buzzed with excitement. Castiel nodded and started to walk after Dean, but Bobby caught him by his elbow. "Hey, Cas."

"Yes?" Castiel said as patiently as he could.

"We sure could use someone to lead us round here. Spiritually, you know." Bobby said with a light smile and a wink. "Wouldn't hurt to have an angel in charge o' that."

"I'll think about." Castiel nodded. "I gotta go, Bobby. I'll see you tomorrow."

Bobby adjusted his trucker hat, nodded and wheeled off to go talk to the others.

Castiel walked back to his cabin watching the sea of people move out of the hall. In the beginning, there were so many people they had to have more than one person to a cabin. That wasn't too bad, he thought; he wanted to be with Dean. He looked around the crowded streets searching for the familiar green eyes but didn't see them. Castiel frowned slightly.

Halfway to the Cabin he felt a hand tap his shoulder. "Hey Cas."

Cas turned around and smiled. "Hey, where'd you go?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Everyone wanted my opinion on something."

Castiel pointed to the Cabin just steps ahead. "We're home now, you can relax."

Dean nodded and took large steps up to the door way. He froze. Castiel stood next to him, "What is it?"

Dean touched the door handle slowly. "You know, I've never ever really called one place home."

"We can make it just ours, you know." Castiel said breathing on the nape of his neck.

Dean pushed the door open and looked at Castiel. "How so?" he said, already guessing the answer.

Castiel pushed him inside slamming the door behind him. "I've got an idea." He said clutching at the cloth of Dean's shirt, pulling them towards the bedroom. Castiel brought him close channeling his energy into him. Dean kissed him, pressing his lips firmly against Castiel's.

Castiel pulled apart breathless and smiling as fingered the edges of Dean's shirt. He pulled the offending material away. Dean put his hands on Castiel's stomach, felling the tight muscle under his clothes. Moving his hands teasingly down, he felt the hem of the shirt and pushed it up. Castiel raised his arms, grinning playfully as his shirt was lifted.

They moved quicker together, after the tiring day, neither of them wanted anymore games. Castiel fumbled with Dean's belt and without wasting any more time they fell together onto the bed intertwined.

Hours later, Castiel could feel Dean's heart pulsing with the same fire he felt as they fell together exhausted. Dean rested his head on Castiel's shoulder, his arm draped across his neck. "Thank you." He whispered. "For being my angel."

Castiel blushed, hiding the feeling of doubt, and kissed his forehead. "I love you."

He sighed and leaned his head against Dean's. "We are going to win."

Dean nodded, nearly asleep. "I hope so. Just have to keep everyone I care about safe till then. Then we can rebuild." He looked up into Castiel's blue eyes. "We can have a home together."

Castiel smiled. "That will be nice."

Dean sighed contentedly. "Tomorrow, we'll see if there is anything at Bobby's to use to spruce this place up."

"Tomorrow." Castiel agreed, realizing to himself that he also felt tired.

They fell asleep together, in each other's arms.

**.:To Be Continued:.**


	2. Crashing

**Challenge Issued by: ParaCaerOuVoar  
I do not own them.  
****Things I did not make up: Palin (urk) being president (gag) and Bobby dying (sobs) and Sam saying yes (_NO_!). **  
**Enjoy.  
**

**Falling Star  
Chapter Two**

Castiel woke when he felt the sheets rustling. Dean was turning in his sleep, his brow creased. Castiel reached out his finger and touched Dean's temple, but he couldn't see clearly into Dean's mind. He rested his palm on the side of Dean's face and whispered. "Dean? Dean? What's the matter?"

Dean woke with a start. "Huh?" He relaxed feeling Castiel. "Oh, g'morning."

Castiel nodded. "Good morning. Were you having a dream?"

Dean sat up and stretched his arms. "Of sorts. Let's get ready before the mess hall runs out of food."

Castiel frowned as stood up, grabbing some clothes. He looked out the window, watching the burning sunrise. He murmured to himself slightly, "Red sky at morning, sailors take warning."

Dean pulled his pants on and looked over at Castiel. "What?"

Castiel shook his head and tightened his belt. "Nothing."

They got dressed in silence and went to find Bobby before they got breakfast. They found him, already done with his oatmeal, drumming his finger on the armrest. They gathered together a small team of reliable hunters after a small breakfast and headed out to the trucks. The Impala couldn't hold as many as the two trucks could, so Dean let her stay behind.

It was a long drive to Bobby's house. Nearly four hours, but it did give Castiel a chance to learn how to drive. The first hour was a little shaky, he hit the brakes hard a couple of times to the other passenger's dismay but he quickly got the hang of it on the deserted road.

There were five men total when they crossed the quarantine zone; Dean, Castiel, Bobby and the two others. South Dakota wasn't safe anymore, but they had to get the materials for the camp site.

The rolled into Singer's Salvage Yard nervously looking for any stray Crotes. You couldn't be to sure these days, it seemed the whole damn world was infected. Castiel got out, eyes scanning the area. Dean stood at his side, "Do you sense anything?"

Castiel swallowed back his hesitation. His senses were dampened and he didn't precisely smell anything. "No." he said as firmly as he could.

Dean nodded trusting him. "Okay," he called out, "Grab only what you need. And be quick about it."

Castiel pushed Bobby into the house as the old man yelled out directions. Dean grabbed what he asked, grumbling, "I can't believe you even have an organization system."

With his arms full, Dean ran to the truck to set down the first load of books. Already the bed of the vehicle was holding assorted weapons. As Dean turned his back he heard a faint rumbling down the road. Looking, up he saw the dust stirring as something approached.

Dean ran back in to the room. "We have to get going!" he yelled.

Everyone looked at him bewildered. The red headed solider walked over to the window. "Why? Is some- Holy shit! There's a fucking tank on the lawn!"

Dean swore. "Everyone, start heading downstairs to the panic room…"

As he spoke the door opened to reveal seven heavily armed military men. The tall sergeant yelled, "What's your business in Crote territory?"

Dean smiled and held up his hands, turning to face them slowly. "We're just getting supplies, guys. No need to panic."

One of the military men pointed to the ceiling. "What's with all this Satan shit on the ceiling?"

"It ain't for Satanism." Bobby said defensively.

"Shut up smart ass. We're doing the talking." The sergeant said waving his gun. "We're here to evacuate all survivors."

"And kill any fucking Crotes." Said the tall skinny man in the back of their group, hands twitching as he held his gun.

Castiel looked at the army soldiers. He bit his lip and concentrated, willing to make them disappear.

"Now, calm down," Dean said smoothly, "No one here is a Crote. What say we-"

As Castiel pushed himself his powers went to full force, and a lamp fell over in the next room causing a stack of books to hit the floor in a tumble.

"What was that?" One of the soldiers jumped.

"It's a fucking trap!" Their leader yelled. "Kill 'em."

"Happily." The skinny guy said firing his gun. The others in their squad followed suit. Dean and his men scattered but Bobby was decorated in lead. Castiel was hit in the leg during the scramble, he fell to his knees. Crawling to a bookshelf for cover, the last feathers fell, dull gray and rotted.

"Make sure they're all dead." One solider hissed. "Can't be to sure with Crotes."

Dean, with his back pressed against the wall, raised his gun and nodded to the men under his command giving them the kill on sight order. They moved apart and went about the house avoiding the soldiers.

Castiel lay bleeding, barely able to move, as he realized his leg wasn't stopping. It was bleeding away, no end in sight to the fire that seemed to be in his veins. He heard the shots and waited for another one to come to him.

"Bastards!" Someone yelled.

More gunfire. Castiel tried to move further away from the room.

He heard Dean's voice above the confusion. "Sloppy work guys. We'll have to work on coordination later." Dean walked into the room, first seeing the bloody wheelchair. He took a deep ragged breath, "Bobby. Oh god, Bobby…"

Castiel looked up. "Dean, help..."

Dean shook himself out of his trance. "Cas?" he ran over to Castiel and saw the blood. "Put your arms around my neck."

He picked Castiel up as the others ran into the room. "Castiel's hurt. Somebody get sheets from upstairs. We need to staunch this wound." He snapped, he looked over at Bobby. "And we're taking Bobby's body back to us so he can have a proper funeral. Hurry up, we've got to get out of here."

The men worked quickly as they loaded everything into the trucks. The bullet riddled wheel chair was left to rust in the room. Dean carried Castiel out without stopping to grab one of Bobby's photo albums for their Cabin. They staunched Castiel's bleeding leg as much as they could and let him rest in the backseat.

Dean hit the gas as they sped back to camp.

Dean cursed himself the whole way there. Every sharp turn on the road reminded him of what a bad idea it was for him to be in charge. He couldn't do this, he couldn't find the colt. He straightened a little, when he realized he knew someone who could help them. Looking over at Castiel's still form, he knew he'd have to say Yes. Someone ought to be saved before no one else could. He cared about this world, about Castiel too much, to put himself above them anymore.

The next days were grey. Dean watched over Castiel, who had fallen deeply unconsciousness. No one knew why, his body had gone into shock. As he slept, Dean watched horrified as his skin paled, and his hair dulled. "No, no, no," Dean whispered brushing the bangs from the unconscious Castiel's eyes, "Cas you gotta wake up."

At nights, some people in the campground thought they heard a voice screaming to the heavens Yes. The voice was distant and each pain laced syllable echoed in the dark to the silent stars.

"YES!" Dean yelled again deep in the forest that border lined Camp. "You bastards I said yes! Come fix it!"

There was no answer. His nerves grew increasingly short. His voice grew raspy and gruff with the effort. On the second day, as Dean sat by Castiel's bedside he wondered what had happened at the Salvage yard that had made things go so terribly wrong.

They buried Bobby on that sunny day. It occurred to Dean that the soldiers had heard something in the other room, and he wondered vaguely if Castiel had even thought to use his powers. Somewhere between death and dreams, Castiel slept unknowing of the fear and hatred brewing in Dean's gut.

Four days in a sleep like death, Castiel woke up. Dean was at his bedside pacing. "Hey." Castiel said hoarsely.

"Oh good." Dean said dryly. "You're awake."

He sat down on the bed and handed him some water. Castiel sipped it gratefully. "How long have I… what's going on?"

"Four days." Dean said solemnly. "Since Bobby died in the salvage yard. You got shot, and you've been out of it."

Castiel swallowed. He'd been more than out of it; he could feel it in his bones. They were heavier, tied down to the earth more concretely. His veins didn't have the same power to it. "Are you okay?"

Dean's shoulders sagged. "Yeah, but I'm just curious…"

Castiel attempted to sit up slightly. "Yes?"

Dean glared at him. "What the fuck happened _exactly?_"

"What do you mean?" Castiel's brows furrowed. "You were there, you saw…"

"I saw an angel get shot and my friend get slaughtered. Why didn't you waste them, Cas? You have the power."

Castiel turned red slightly as he looked away from Dean's penetrating gaze. "I'm sorry, Dean, I tried…"

Dean jumped up. "Tried? Bobby's dead! He was the best one on our team! Are all angels useless?"

"Dean, please…"

"Feel better Castiel." Dean said mockingly, pronouncing his angelic name in a bitter tone. He turned, and stormed out of the cabin.

Castiel slumped back into the covers and fell into a restless sleep, surprised by how quickly he was exhausted. He was numb and shocked by Dean's accusations and wondered again what had happened these past four days.

He wasn't surprised to wake up alone the next morning with no one watching him, work had to go on. Dean probably had given the order he didn't need a nurse maid. Castiel's leg was stiff, but it seemed manageable.

He stood up slowly, feeling the stubble on his chin. His stomach growled as he moved. Wincing slightly, he pulled on proper clothes and went outside. The mess hall had already run out of breakfast for the day, so he continued to scavenge. There had to be something a wounded angel could do. He laughed at himself, he wasn't even an angel. There had to be something human he could do, he corrected.

His ears perked up as he heard shots fired over at the shooting range. Limping, he got there just in time to see another target fall down. Dean held up his gun in front of the ten trainees. "I expect everyone to be able to hit the middle of the target ten times out of ten. No excuses. Thomas, stop starring at me like an idiot."

He cocked his gun. "We cannot afford to miss."

He fired at the target furthest from him and hit it dead center. A few clapped tentatively as he walked closer to them. "I'll be coming around to make sure you are all aiming correctly."

Dean noticed Castiel standing at the end of the line awkwardly and walked over to him first. Castiel smiled faintly, but stopped when Dean approached him frowning. "Feeling better?" he said icily.

"Yes." Castiel said in a small voice. "I didn't see yo-"

"Good." Dean handed him a gun. "Then it's time you learn to shoot."

"Al-al-alright." Castiel stammered.

"This isn't like your little garrison, we don't have powers." Dean sneered. "You have to have some skills if you're going to be human. So pay attention."

Castiel started to speak, but Thomas who was only a foot away chirped, "Sir! Can I have some help?"

Dean took a deep breath and stepped over to Thomas. "Okay, Thomas, again it goes like _this._" He looked over at Castiel. "Are you watching what I'm doing?"

Castiel held up the gun, the strange foreign tool he'd never had any inclination to use, and said firmly, "Yes sir, O fearless leader."

As the group learned, they all practiced under Dean's watchful eye. The only one to frequently hit just shy of the target area was Castiel. "Get out." Dean hissed. "Go to the mess hall and see if they need help cleaning. Come back when you're ready to take things seriously."

Castiel left as the other soldiers shook their heads sadly.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean apologized later that night when they met back at their cabin. Kissed him on the neck, and said gruffly that he'd lost his temper; it was just the stress of dealing with all of everyone else's problems. Castiel let himself believe Dean meant it and kissed him back, ruffling his hair. Dean kept mumbling sorry as he pushed Castiel towards the bedroom. That night, as they lay entertained on the sheets, Castiel knew something had changed. Dean was moving against him, not gentle or with the same touch he knew, but rough and angry. He wasn't with Castiel really; he was just using Castiel to vent his anger and his stress in angry thrusts. After they were done, Dean fell asleep next to him.

Castiel didn't feel his arm draped across his chest, or Dean's head on his shoulder. Dean may have been lying next to him but he couldn't have been further away. Castiel lay there stiff as a board, sore and staring at the ceiling wide awake. He touched the necklace he still wore and looked over at Dean. He snapped off the little lump of metal and put it on his night stand.

He left the cabin quietly after a few hours and wandered around the campground. In the early morning hours, he watched the last star fall. Near day break, he shivered in the chill morning as he realized he was still only wearing his sweat pants. Castiel sighed, knowing he'd have to go back and talk to Dean or at least put on some decent clothes. When he returned in the morning, the bed was empty. He could still feel the warmth on the sheets.

Dean didn't come back to his cabin, and he wasn't surprised to hear rumor's of him staying in Risa's cabin until he had his own.

Castiel felt a little bit more useless everyday. He thought back to Bobby's idea of him being the leader of the camp's faith community. It was worth a shot, he decided. He would move on. At the very least, he could be a better solider- fall in line and just accept his orders.

It seemed the human thing to do.

**.:The End:.**


End file.
